


Suede

by ihighlydoubtthat



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: A very specific jacket, Dirty Talk, Hope I’m not crossing a line here girl, Jacket porn, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Semi-naked in Berluti, why do I always have to make him partially clothed?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:53:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14314011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihighlydoubtthat/pseuds/ihighlydoubtthat
Summary: So there’s this jacket.For 6.





	Suede

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LivefromG25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivefromG25/gifts).



_An item of clothing should absolutely cost this much if it makes you feel this good,_ he thought. More man than boy. More present in his own life. Altogether more human because even pulling it from it's tissue-paper lined box was a sensory experience he could never have anticipated. Timmy held it in front of him at arms length and congratulated himself on his acquisition. 

He lay it down on the bed before raking through his dripping, freshly washed hair- several dampened curls springing disobediently back in front of his eyes. He wiped his fingers dry on the back of his underwear and made the decision to try it on again. 

The fabric felt smooth under the light touch of his fingertips; the shallow nap of brown suede launching a distinctive, neural tingle up into his wrists. He circled one of the embossed stud buttons before slowly releasing them from their buttonholes one by one and opening the front of the jacket to reveal it's black silk lining. It gleamed invitingly under the bold ceiling light- begging to be touched, to caress the naked skin of his back.

Timmy lifted the jacket up and swooped it around himself, sliding one arm then the other inside its slick sleeves. The cool silk brushed against the baby hairs of his forearms and enveloped his back and waist, pressing into his bare skin under the suede's weight. It sat heavier on his shoulders than he remembered- comfortable yet commanding. The cut forming a rigid, bolder outline of his delicate frame.

He padded over to the mirror and turned this way and that- absorbing his reflection. With his skinny, almost-naked form drastically overshadowed, it was as if the jacket were wearing _him_ \- his body a mere console for it's elegance. 

He turned the cuffs up- putting a solid strip of silk on display in stark contrast to the outer layer and shifted himself inside, letting the lining rub against his skin wherever it could. It brushed smoothly over his nipples and he suddenly regretted spoiling himself by not wearing a shirt. 

He started at the vibration of his phone on the wooden night stand. Armie, video call. How did the man always know when he was half naked?

"Dude, do you have a sixth sense or something?" His phone filled with Armie's, beaming face. He was somewhere dark, with an upward bluish glow highlighting his cheekbones and shining through long eyelashes. Poolside. Which meant it was past bedtime for the rest of his family and he could enjoy his whisky in peace. 

"What do you mean?" Armie laughed, still beaming, taking a drag of his cigarette and blowing smoke away from the camera. 

Timmy rolled his eyes and silently panned the camera from his face, down the length of his body so Armie could just see the opening in his jacket with the channel of milky, naked skin visible underneath. Further down to the waistband of his tight, black underwear, over his legs, his feet- then quickly back up again, not allowing Armie enough time to take it all in but just register his semi-clothed situation. 

"Oh wow. I guess I must do. It's better than the rest of my senses put together..."

"Stop," Timmy silenced him, grinning. He didn't want him to stop, but they'd agreed to tone it down. The flirting. "You okay?"

"Me okay." 

"STOP."

"Sorry," Armie giggled. Maybe he'd had more than whiskey. Maybe that wasn't a cigarette. "What's going on, how was your day?"

Timmy slummped down in to the armchair near the end of his bed, leaning back into it, propping his feet up on the mattress. He watched Armie take another drag and tried not to be jealous of the inanimate object between his fingers, being periodically treated to the plushness of his lips. 

"Well actually, you're looking at my new favourite possession." Timmy held his phone at arm's length giving Armie a better view of the jacket. "Excuse my lack of shirt, I was just trying it on."

Armie's face suddenly relaxed from it's smile. "You are absolutely not excused."

"Shall I go put more clothes on-"

"Don't you dare." His seriousness, threatening undertone incited a familiar pang in Timmy's stomach. 

"Do you like it?" Timmy ran his hand over the fabric, enjoying the felt-like nap, making sure the full length of his fingers were captured on screen. He wasn't planning on teasing, but Armie was clearly feeling playful and there was something decidedly liberating about wearing a man's jacket with nothing but tiny underwear. 

Armie took full stock of Timmy looking into the camera from under dark lashes. His creamy skin in contrast to the wet strands of hair that hung in front of his eyes. Shiny pink lips begging for something indecent. And yes, the jacket did actually look good. Really good in fact.

"Christ, Tim. Yes. Yes I like it." _This is probably the most beautiful you have ever looked. It definitely is._

"Okay, cool. I think I'm going to wear it to the BAFTA's Tea Party." He watched Armie's eyes light up.

"Just like that, I hope." Armie grinned cheekily and took a final, long drag before stumping out the cigarette. He jostled his feet about in the water in the hope it would ground him. He half wanted Timmy not to bite. To let his flirting fall flat so that they could have a civil, friendly conversation in which his mind was not going a thousand miles an hour and his heart even faster. But he hadn't bargained on finding a semi-naked, semi-wet Timmy on the other end of the phone swaddled in... was that suede?

"Come on, man," Timmy laughed. "I'm going to put clothes on, wait there-"

"No!" Armie snapped. "I'll stop, I'm sorry." He tried to pull himself together. "What are you thinking of wearing with it, then?" 

Timmy thought for a second, fully aware that Armie was merely placating him to distract from the fact he was undoubtedly still looking at him like he was a chaser for that whiskey in his hand. 

"Black. Probably just a tshirt and jeans. I dunno, I've got these boots but they might be too much." He shifted in his seat, his head disappearing from camera as he reached to pick up the boots from the floor. He placed them on his naked thighs and panned the camera down so Armie could see. They were a mottled brown leather, darker than the jacket and tall with skinny laces and a medium-thick rubber sole. 

They had an authoritarian feel that with the jacket, looked altogether more dominant than his usual aesthetic and it was doing something to Armie that he couldn't control. 

"They're..." _Really fucking hot. God they're hot._ "Put them on."

"But I'm not dressed- you really won't get a good impression of what-"

"Tim. Please put them on for me. I want to see them on." Armie was asking a lot given all their discussions about staying in check but fuck it. He was in the mood to push his luck.

Timmy knew exactly where this was going, and after a beat, silently tossed the phone across on to the mattress- giving Armie a view of his bedroom ceiling. He wrestled with the boots, pulling them on to his naked feet and tying the laces up to the very top around his calves before standing up out of the chair, moving the camera to show Armie just the tips of his feet. 

"You're a tease," Armie's voice was softer than before. Gentle and coaxing now that he was on the verge of knowing what he wanted. "I need more than that." 

Timmy audibly sighed, acting hard done by, and keeping the camera on his feet, slowly made his way back over to the full length mirror. He told himself calmly that on one hand, this was simply a friend showing another friend his new jacket and the boots he thinks he might wear with it. On the other hand, that is definitely not what was happening. Because Armie was giving him instructions that one after another were making his cock twitch.

He thought back to the conversation they'd had before Christmas where they'd agreed, in a savage moment of sobriety when Liz asked to borrow Timmy's phone to get a cab and he'd shakily handed it over into her outstretched palm, knowing that one wrong tap of her thumb could potentially present her with many incriminating images of her husband in various states of arousal. It was too close a call for them to continue being anything more than friends and they'd agreed to immediately, reluctantly cease all flirting and most definitely, fucking. 

They'd managed to refrain from sleeping together or even being tempted thanks to having a couple weeks apart over the festive period. But slowly, the flirting had crept back up and now here he was, letting Armie tell him what to do and having it completely, achingly affect him. _Fuck._

He took a breath and slowly moved the camera up to show Armie his reflection- watching Armie's mouth fall open as he caught sight of the boots on his naked legs, the tightness of his underwear, that soft suede draping over his shoulders, allowing a glimpse of his stomach, his chest. The still wet hair that flopped forward, no matter how many times he pushed his fingers through it. 

Timmy heard him release a quiet "Fuck."

"Well?" 

"Tim. I cannot even begin to tell you what I am thinking right now." _You are fucking unbelievable._

“Tell me.” He knew he’d regret it. Or would he? Did this really matter? It was just a bit of fun and Armie clearly needed it as much as he did.

He watched Armie bring his hand up to his face and rub his fingers over scrunched eyes as if having an internal argument. He shifted slightly so that the jacket hung open wider and the bulge of his cock was a little more visible. He’d never pegged himself as an exhibitionist but had to admit that showing himself off this way while Armie couldn’t physically touch him, felt pretty good. 

“Timmy, I’m sorry. I’m thinking things I shouldn’t and we agreed not to talk about. You’re fucking kill me here and I need to shut up.”

“Hey man, you brought this on yourself.”

"I know." Armie had sighed as many words as he had spoken since the start of his call. "Sit down."

Timmy obediently followed the urge between his legs and went back to the armchair. Awash with a confidence that seemed to emanate from his outfit alone, he propped his phone up on the nightstand against a pile of books so that the camera had him in full view. 

"What are you doing?" Armie knew exactly. He was giving him an open invitation and the itch to accept was excruciating. Timmy was leaning back in the chair, the upper half of his body adorned with Berluti, damp hair falling into his face, lips slick with spit. The lower half, a endless sea of creamy thigh, a bend in both knees, parted to the width of his narrow hips. His feet resting on the edge of the mattress in those calf-high, shiny leather boots. Armie couldn't remember the last time he felt quite this weak. Quite this completely dismantled by a something he couldn't touch. 

Timmy didn't respond and didn't look at the camera. If he was silent he knew Armie would give him another instruction. _Come on, Armie. Get what you need._

"Tim..." His voice was low, a groan almost. "You're making me hard."

"Likewise."

"Show me, baby."

Timmy's heart swelled. _Baby._ It had been so long. He slid his thumbs into the waistband of his underwear, pushing them down to release his now throbbing erection. To show Armie what he does to him with nothing more than a few select words. _Please. Sit. Stop. Don't._ Basic words that triggered something in his brain only when Armie said them, and lured a response that ushered all the blood in his body southward. 

He began to stroke himself slowly, turning his head to look at Armie. "Say it again," Timmy said, watching the stillness of his face, the bite of his lip. "Call me baby."

"Fuck," Armie whispered, a wave of adoration bubbling to the surface amongst his carnality. "Baby..." 

Armie felt himself grow painfully rigid in that second. Had he anticipated this, he would not be sat outside, by the pool in full view of the bedroom where his wife may or may not be sleeping and could decide at any moment to glance out the window. He couldn't risk it. But he could get Timmy there. 

"Does that feel good?" He watched Timmy nod with his hand palming the cock he missed desperately. He wanted it in his mouth, to suck and tongue at it's sensitive end. To breathe in Timmy's scent just there. He could remember it so clearly and knew that to have his face buried in Timmy's lap right now, that scent would be laced with the luxurious, leathery smell of suede.

"God I wish I was there, T. Fuck."

"Tell me." _Tell me how you would take my body in your hands and claim it as your own. How you'd mold me to fit around you the way I've been craving since the last time you were inside me._

"Christ, Tim. I could literally devour you right now, I swear to God. What I wouldn't give to be between your knees, that beautiful cock in my mouth..."

Timmy closed his eyes and thought about the warm wetness of Armie's mouth. The soft drag of his lips in worship. His huge hands slid between him and the seat of the chair, cupping his ass. He imagined his own fingers dug into Armie's hair with a gentle tug. 

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?" Timmy nodded. 

"Fuck, Armie I miss you," he gasped, squirming in his own passion, the silk lining of his jacket brushing against his arm with every stroke in an encouraging caress. The skin of his jaw rubbing gently against the plush collar. The weight of the jacket in contrast to his overall nakedness almost made it feel like he was being held. 

"Ask me what I want." Timmy moaned, focusing on the pressure of his hand, slick with pre-come.

"What do you want, baby?"

"I... fuck..." his head dipped into the back of the chair and his face up to the ceiling with a sudden swell of desire. He realised that he wouldn't last long and cursed himself. He raced ahead in his mind to get where he needed to be. "I want you to open me up, Armie. I want you to make me take your cock. All of it." Words spilling out because he couldn't physically contain them. Having Armie watch him, hearing the honey of his voice, blended his imagination with reality and he couldn't quite tell if anything he was saying was coming out aloud or not.

Armie released a moan, louder than planned, and felt a dampness in the front of his shorts. _Fuck._ The way Timmy was sitting, it would have been so easy to push his knees back to his chest, his feet up over Armie's broad shoulders- the dark leather of his boots sticking to a layer of sweat as he dove in to him. The brush of the suede between their naked stomachs.

"Oh God, T."

"Do not stop talking to me, Armie. Please," Timmy begged, yearning for his voice. "I'm so close."

"Tim, will you wear that jacket for me the next time I fuck you?” He began, ready to take Timmy over the precipice.

“I want you on your back, legs spread, arms above your head ...taking every inch of my cock in nothing but that fucking jacket."

The vision flooded Timmy's mind and he shuddered into the eruption of his orgasm, shooting into his palm and up in to the exposed area of his stomach, narrowly missing the fabric either side. 

He was a sight to behold. Panting into the aftermath- his stomach decorated with a creamy spill that glimmered under the ceiling light. The canvas of his skin framed with soft, brown suede. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Armie smiled, drinking in the magnificence- the pride at having brought him his release. He could do this forever and hoped Timmy would let him. 

Timmy closed his eyes and grinned, so content in his current state.

This was the best jacket he had known in his life. He had chosen it well.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the jacket, for those not already familiar: https://goo.gl/images/2agfUF 
> 
> Find me on tumblr, not living my life @c-u-at-midnight


End file.
